


(I want dirt under my fingernails.)

by softly (alexenglish)



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe, Childhood Friends, Kissing, Nonbinary Character, Other, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-21
Updated: 2017-08-21
Packaged: 2018-12-18 03:56:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11866185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexenglish/pseuds/softly
Summary: In a dark, dark wood there was a dark, dark house and in that dark, dark house I think we should get drunk and fool around.





	(I want dirt under my fingernails.)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lonniek](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lonniek/gifts).



> [a softer world project](http://queerlyalex.tumblr.com/asofterworld)

 

Louis is the first one there. He doesn’t mean to be, but he spent the last few hours pacing around his bedroom, catching his reflection in the mirror. His hair and clothes were the same every time, but he kept checking to make sure he looked alright every couple of minutes. Honestly, he left the house so he’d stop that.

He’s nervous beyond belief, but he’s trying to ignore that, thanks.

And he shouldn’t really be nervous, he knows. He’s known Harry and Liam since they were all wee kiddos running around using the wrong pronouns, like. It shouldn’t matter, but it does. It’s been ages since they’ve done this, and Louis is bloody nervous.

“‘Remember that abandoned lot, Tommo?’” Louis mutters to himself, hiking his backpack up onto his shoulders more securely. The assorted bottles inside clink together merrily. “‘Why don’t we meet there, Tommo? Like old times.’ Ugh.”

It’s all Harry’s fault, calling him up all expectantly, using their most convincing voice on him. He could imagine the dimples, that was what did it. The dimples and the sweet twinkle Harry might have had in their eye. Always made Louis a bit silly.

There’s a house on the lot now. Got built the last year before Louis went to uni. The three of them stopped going there to get drunk by then, but he rode past it on the way to school. The bare frame of the house surprised him at the time. Now it’s got a roof and walls, but the floor is still dirt.

The lot is well dark, set off the road a bit. Louis shines his torch on the ground so he doesn’t trip over anything or get a nail in the bottom of his trainer. When he gets inside the house, he kicks the dirt around, clearing a little patch near the far wall.

By the time he’s done with that, he hears voices floating up in the dark. Dim, a ways away, but unmistakably voices. Louis doesn’t think too hard about how Harry and Liam seem to have come together. He probably could have texted Harry and met up with them beforehand, but he didn’t think about it. Too worried about his hair wilting.

A torch light shines through the rectangular cut out where the door should be. Louis waves even though he can’t see past it, Harry laughs and lowers the light. Behind them, Liam has one of those camping lanterns that gives off significantly more light than either Louis or Harry’s torches.

Maybe they didn’t come together, since they both have their own light.

Louis shakes off any lingering awkwardness and goes to give Harry a hug. They smell like a flowery perfume, sensible and not at all overwhelming. Their stubble scrapes against Louis’ smooth skin as their cheeks press together.

Louis taps down on the surge of jealousy by hugging them closer. It’s been awhile.

“Harold,” Louis says warmly.

“Lewis,” they reply, chuckling.

“Louis,” Liam says, as soon as Louis untangles himself. He holds his arms open and Louis barrels into him, giving him as tight of a hug as he gave Harry.

Liam’s all… warm. Warm and very masculine smelling. He’s so much _bigger_ than the last time Louis saw him, all bulked up from being on T. Louis is sure he grew an inch or two as well. There’s a _beard_ on his face.

“Oh god, I’m so jealous,” Louis admits, stroking both of Liam’s cheeks. His beard is all plushy and soft.

“Wicked, innit?” Harry asks, hovering off to the side. Louis flushes and lets his hands drop as Harry slings their arm over his shoulder, steering him towards his own backpack.

“I’m a real boy now,” Liam says, doing that blink-wink thing he does once they’re all sat down.

“Always were,” Louis reminds him, tugging his bag closer. He has to. If Liam wasn’t a real boy before T, then Louis isn’t one _now_ and that won’t do. Can’t even afford a binder at the moment, and he’s too busy with his jobs and uni to sort out time for the GIC.

“True,” Liam says agreeably, grinning so hard his eyes disappear. Louis’ belly goes warm. “It’s just like, I dunno, feel better now. More me.”

“It’s wicked,” Louis says, setting out his bottles. Liquor left over from the last house party he and Zayn threw. “You know how it is. I’m happy for you, though.” Louis tugs out the massive bottle of Jaeger and hands it to Harry. “Had to rock-paper-scissors Nialler for that, enjoy.”

“Oh,” Harry says, voice sliding high and delighted. “Love me some Nialler, though.”

“I know you do,” Louis says flatly, and has a very vivid flashback to the _one_ time Harry visited him last year and he ended up walking in on them shagging Niall at least three times in as many days. “Learn how to lock a door yet?”

“Not unless you’ve lost the voyeur kink,” Harry says, with a wink. Louis flushes again and throws a pinch of dirt at them. They yelp and swat at his hand, but it’s already on their trousers.

“Wait, you shagged Lou’s roomie?” Liam asks curiously.

“You know me,” Harry says, taking a delicate sip from bottle of Jaeger.

“Slut,” Louis says, fondly. Harry shrugs and nods, looking pleased with themself.

“Are _you_ shagging anyone?” Liam asks, looking at Louis.

Louis scowls, digging up the chasers he brought. They might be drinking on the dirt floor of a partially built house in an abandoned lot, but he refuses to drink liquor straight without a coke.

“You think I’m shagging someone like this?” he asks, voice going high. _Higher_. He clears his throat and passes Liam a bottle of soda. “The last person I took home was dead convinced I was a girl. Had to correct him the next morning -- he wasn’t too pleased about that.”

Didn’t really believe Louis either and honestly, what the _fuck_. What’s there to believe or disbelieve? Cis men are twats.

“You just have to find someone who gets it,” Liam says. Even in the dark, Louis can see how wide his eyes are, sincere. He lays his hand over Louis’ knee and squeezes. A big ol’ knot goes tight in Louis’ gut.

“You get it,” Louis says, eyes on his coke, tearing at the label. Liam keeps his hand on Louis’ knee, Liam ignores the way his cheeks go warm. “Hazza gets it, but most people don’t.”

Most people don’t understand why he keeps his shirt on whilst he fucks, and why sometimes he doesn’t want anyone to touch him below the waist, and why sometimes everything is alright as long as no one tries to insist his clit’s a proper dick.

“They’re idiots,” Liam says, with conviction.

“You’re totally shaggable,” Harry agrees. “I’d shag you anytime.”

“You’d shag anyone,” Louis points out, with a loud laugh.

“Tell him he’s shaggable, Li,” Harry says, jerking their head at Louis pointedly. Louis bites down on another giggle and tries to keep a straight face whilst Harry stares intensely at Liam, like that’ll help Louis’ case any.

Everyone’s silent for a moment as Liam looks Louis up and down, finger tapping his chin like he’s really thinking about it. Louis pretends it doesn’t make his heart pound harder.

“Totally shaggable,” Liam says after a moment, grinning and meeting Louis’ eyes. Well, Louis assumes. Liam’s are sort of lost in his cheeks, that’s how hard he’s smiling.

“Shut up, both of ya,” Louis says, smacking at Harry’s hand as they raise a toast. Harry ignores him and taps his bottle of Jaeger against Liam’s bottle of Jack. They both drink at Louis’ expense.

Louis rolls his eyes and pretends not to be fond.

If it were anyone else, that would be the last of it. But it’s Harry. And Liam, but mostly it’s Harry.

Harry, who gets increasingly touchy as they drink more. Every shot is an inch closer to Louis’ lap until they’re sat on him, long legs folded up like they’re trying to be smaller and make themself fit. Even Liam’s gotten closer, both he and Louis leaning up against the wall, pressed together. Thigh to thigh and shoulder to shoulder, and Harry on top of Louis like they are. It’s hot -- temperature hot. Sexy hot too, if he really thinks about it, but he’s trying not to.

“How long have you been in your binder, love?” Liam asks. Louis jumps when he feels Liam’s hand slip under his shirt and pet over his hip. Liam doesn’t go any higher, but he’s stroking over the soft curve of Louis’ stomach, and Louis has to resist the urge to squirm.

“Put it on when I left, it’s s’okay,” Louis says, fingers digging into Harry’s side to steady himself. Harry squeaks indignantly, turning to glare at Louis. Louis shrugs and kisses their shoulder in apology.

“That reminds me,” Harry says, handing Liam their bottle. Liam looks at it with a bemused expression before taking a swig, face crumpling as he swallows.

“Nasty,” he huffs.

“Yes, you are,” Harry says, unfolding their dumb giraffe legs so they can turn and… straddle Louis’ lap.

“Uhm,” Louis says, grabbing Harry’s hips reflexively. Not that he’s had Harry straddling him enough times for hip grabbing to be a reflex, but that’s what you do when someone straddles you, right?

“Uhm,” Liam echoes, sitting up straighter.

“So shagging,” Harry says. Louis giggles. Harry hushes him. “You deserve a shag.”

“Right now?” Louis says, raising both his eyebrows. Harry looks so serious, Louis really has to keep himself from laughing his head off.

Harry nods.

“On the dirt floor of an abandoned house?”

Harry nods again.

“Right here in front of Liam?”

Harry looks thoughtful, “Well, he could join.”

That _does_ make Louis laugh his head off -- so hard he nearly dislodges Harry. Liam steadies them, hands on both their arms, giggling as well. Harry looks affronted.

“I’m _serious_ ,” Harry says. There’s a slur to their words, Louis isn’t sure how serious they can be when they’re nearly pissed. “You deserve a good shag.”

“Maybe not on the dirt floor of an abandoned house, Haz,” Liam says, sounding beyond amused.

“Fair,” Harry says, nodding.

“How about a kiss,” Louis suggests, tilting his chin up and fixing Harry with a look that’s far more brave that he feels.

Harry’s entire body perks up as they nod. “Great idea,” they say, grabbing Louis’ cheeks and hauling him in for a messy kiss that’s more tongue than anything. It’s dead sexy, regardless.

It’s not the first time he’s kissed Harry. They’ve all kissed. Three queer kids growing up together, it’s pretty much a given. But Louis lets himself feel it differently, the intent behind it as Harry rocks their hips down in a cheeky way, hand sliding into Louis’ hair, tilting his head back to deepen the kiss. Louis feels all the points they’re pressed together, feels Liam’s hand go tight on his arm. It's ages before Harry pulls away. It’s still too soon.

“Well,” Liam says, clearing his throat.

Harry giggles. “Your turn.” They turn Louis’ head, makes him face Liam.

“Uhm,” Louis says again.

“You don’t have to,” Liam says shyly, looking at Louis from under his eyelashes.

“Fuck off,” Louis huffs, and reaches out to haul Liam in by the front of his shirt. Their teeth hit and Liam laughs, tilting his head so they can kiss properly. Harry takes advantage of the way Louis’ head is turned and gets their mouth on Louis’ neck, sucking at his pulse.

Louis moans, breath catching at the top of his throat. Liam makes a noise of agreement and kisses him harder, hand sliding into Louis’ hair and tugging hard. Groaning, Louis goes with it, kiss breaking off as he tilts his head back. Liam shifts closer, gets his mouth on the other side of Louis’ neck. Harry’s pressing easy kisses to one side whilst Liam bites down on the other, and Louis fucking _aches_ all over.

He barely registers Liam moving away, but he sees Liam pull Harry in for an open mouthed kiss, dirty with a bit of tongue that has Harry smiling into it. Both of them are still touching Louis -- Harry’s hand cupping his neck, thumb over his pulse, and Liam’s hand settled down on his hip.

“Are you going to shag in my lap?” Louis asks. They’ve been kissing for at least 15 seconds and Louis is impatient. “I’m not opposed, but my lap isn't that big.”

“No shagging in the abandoned house,” Liam says, pulling away from Harry. His voice is low and rough. Dead sexy.

Harry sighs dramatically and reaches for their bottle, taking a swig before handing it off to Louis. “We can still kiss though, right?”

Louis drinks, wincing at how warm the Jaeger’s gotten, “I vote yes.” He hands the bottle to Liam.

“S’alright with me,” Liam says, shrugging as he takes his drink. It’s barely a sip. The only reason Louis doesn’t call him out is because his hand is under Louis’ shirt again, and his thumb is dragging over Louis’ hipbone, and it feels nice.

“We’ll talk about shagging later,” Harry says, nodding sharply.

They grin and duck down to kiss Louis again, pressing on his jaw so his mouth goes soft, letting them deepen the kiss. Liam’s fingertips slide under the waistband of Louis’ trackies, making Louis’ stomach jump, and there’s lips on his neck and hands in his hair, and yeah, later, later is good --

**Author's Note:**

> [reblog on tumblr](http://queerlyalex.tumblr.com/post/164439060102/i-want-dirt-under-my-fingernails)


End file.
